_ FREDERICK, AURELIAN, CAMILLO, _and_ ASCANIO, _the Prince's
Page._

_Fred._ My father's ancient, and may repose himself, if he pleases,
after the ceremony of his entrance; but we, who are younger, should
think it a sin to spend any part of day-light in a chamber. What are
your ways of living here?

_Cam._ Why, sir, we pass our time, either in conversation alone, or in
love alone, or in love and conversation together.

_Fred._ Come, explain, explain, my counsel learned in the laws of
living.

_Cam._ For conversation alone; that's either in going to court, with a
face of business, and there discoursing of the affairs of Europe, of
which Rome, you know, is the public mart; or, at best, meeting the
virtuosi, and there wearying one another with rehearsing our own works
in prose and poetry.

_Fred._ Away with that dry method, I will have none on't. To the next.

_Cam._ Love alone, is either plain wenching, where every courtezan is
your mistress, and every man your rival; or else, what's worse, plain
whining after one woman: that is, walking before her door by day, and
haunting her street by night, with guitars, dark-lanthorns, and
rondaches[3].

_Aur._ Which, I take it, is, or will he our case, Camillo.

_Fred._ Neither of these will fit my humour: If your third prove not
more pleasant, I shall stick to the old Almain recreation; the divine
bottle, and the bounteous glass, that tuned up old Horace to his odes.

_Aur._ You shall need to have no recourse to that; for love and
conversation will do your business: that is, sir, a most delicious
courtezan,--I do not mean down-right punk,--but punk of more than
ordinary sense in conversation; punk in ragou, punk, who plays on the
lute, and sings; and, to sum up all, punk, who cooks and dresses up
herself, with poignant sauce, to become a new dish every time she is
served up to you.

_Fred._ This I believe, Aurelian, is your method of living, you talk
of it so savourily.

_Aur._ There is yet another more insipid sort of love and
conversation: As, for example, look you there, sir; the courtship of
our nuns. [_Pointing to the Nunnery._] They talk prettily; but, a pox
on them, they raise our appetites, and then starve us. They are as
dangerous as cold fruits without wine, and are never to be used but
where there are abundance of wenches in readiness, to qualify them.

_Cam._ But yet they are ever at hand, and easy to come by; and if
you'll believe an experienced sinne